Four Letter Word
by Halfsan
Summary: -Oneshot- Plotless torture fic. Mild Jerkshipping.


**I have absolutely no idea where this came from. So, uh, have some torture, with a dash of Jerkshipping~!**

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There was no telling how many days had gone by. Wherever Dan was, there were no windows, so he couldn't see the sun or glimpses of the outside at all. It was dark and humid, like a cellar. Every now and then he'd fall in and out of consciousness, despite the irritation from the cuffs digging into his wrists. The way he was restrained left his arms above his head and his feet barely touching the floor. Dan's arms had gone completely numb at this point.

This was all his doing… The impostor. Dan regretted being so careless, but his counterpart always seemed to be one step ahead of him. It was too late to lament it now. Here he was now, dark bruises covering his bare stomach and ribs, possibly a broken nose, among other injuries… it all boiled down to Dan being completely _helpless_…

"Don't you look _pathetic_…" When the husky whisper of the impostor breathed right next to his ear, Dan panicked. His body jerked forward, attempting to run away. In that moment of terror, he briefly forgot his imprisonment, the chains snagging him and cutting deeper into his arms. Dan tried to cry out in pain, but his voice cracked.

The impostor's laugh echoed through the room, followed by the heavy footfalls as he walked in front of Dan. Fingers entangled in his messy black hair, forcing his attention on azure eyes that gleamed viciously in the dimly lit room. The impostor formed a malicious smile, and had Dan not been in his current state, he would have knocked that shit-eating grin right off his face.

"Good morning, Dan," the identity thief said, a little too calmly. "How are you?" The second his inquiry finished, Dan felt him jab roughly at the bruise on his rib cage. This time, a strangled groan forced its way from his throat. The impostor's eyes seemed to light up at his anguish. "_Good_…"

The impostor kept agitating the area, pressing his thumb firmly along the bruising, but Dan would not give him any more satisfaction. His mouth clamped shut, refusing to scream, despite how badly he wanted to. It seemed to be working, though. The identity thief's grin seemed to falter, giving Dan the briefest moment of victory.

"Scream for me, Dan." His demand was stern, and his tone almost a pleasant facade. "No one but me will hear you, I promise." The impostor slid his hand around Dan's back, guiding it low to slip his fingers into his back pocket. From it, he withdrew Dan's favorite lighter. He watched as his counterpart flipped the lid open and spun the wheel against Dan's chest, igniting the wick. The flame danced before him and drew close, the impostor holding the lighter right below his chin. Dan reeled back as much as he could, snapping his eyes shut as the fire licked at his skin.

The impostor shifted the position of the lighter, putting it around Dan's stomach. From there, he made the flame come in contact with his flesh, causing it to blister almost instantly. Even so, Dan did not let a single sound escape him. It was at this point the impostor decided to give up, snapping the lighter shut and flinging it into the darkness that enveloped the walls of the room. The identity thief gave Dan a twitch of a smile before slipping into the shadows as well. He could hear rustling, like objects being sifted through, and clanks of metal on metal. When the impostor finally came back into sight, he was holding an object. It looked like some kind of power tool. Dan was too disoriented to determine what it was.

"You…" Dan began, completely out of breath. His chest heaved, greedily craving oxygen, as he tried to speak. The impostor quickly strode towards him, as if interested in what he had to say. Dan was still gasping between words, "…are a piece of sh—" The identity thief didn't even give him a chance to finish. Suddenly the object—the gun, the drill, whatever it was—was aimed at his face. It collided with his jaw rather roughly, silencing him in that instant.

"I didn't give you permission to talk," he hissed, jabbing at Dan's face with the weapon. "I told you to scream." The nose of the weapon was lowered, then nudged against Dan's thigh. The impostor inched closer, their noses almost touching. "Now scream."

The sound the object made was something Dan recognized. It was a nail gun. Not prepared for that kind of pain, Dan gave in, screaming in pure agony; it was then silenced, however, when the identity thief captured his mouth with his own. He tried to resist the impostor's advances, but felt the nail gun slide over his leg and that _sound_ filled his ears again. Dan let out another cry in the unrequited kiss, while the impostor angled his head to deepen it. His tongue entered Dan's mouth, aggressively scoping out the territory, eventually finding his own muscle, poking and prodding at it.

As the identity thief pulled away, he took Dan's bottom lip between his teeth, slowly allowing it to slip between them. His ears could barely register the impostor's heartless chuckle, or the sound of the nail gun being tossed to the floor. Dan's leg had gone painfully numb from shock. His body was weak, causing him to shift his dead weight to the leg without nails embedded in it. Dan was sickened with himself. He felt so fragile and pitiful, mentally cursing the hot tears that streamed down his face, and because it was brought upon by _him_ it just made it worse…

Dan unwillingly let his eyes fall shut. The exhaustion was too much for his broken, battered body to handle, but his lids flew back open when something sharp dragged across his chest. His first instinct was to jump backwards, once again becoming oblivious to the shackles around his wrists. As the metal dug into his wrists, Dan opened his mouth to bellow a cry until the impostor's fingers slid around his neck. His grip tightened instantly and Dan felt his voice rendered useless against the pressure.

"Now Dan, if you hold still, it won't hurt as bad." Again, that falsely charming, baritone voice rang in his ears. Dan slowly pried his heavy eyelids open to see those deceivingly alluring eyes and that fake, malicious smile. In his free hand, the identity thief waved around a thin shard of glass. "On second thought, struggle all you want." The impostor's smile formed into a wicked grin.

The glass came into contact with Dan's skin again. It dug deep into his flesh, slicing downward, and the anguish caused his body to involuntarily struggle. He tried his hardest to back away, but the impostor jerked him forward by his neck, jamming the shard even further into his chest. Dan bit at his lip, fighting against the pain to keep himself from squirming, but the identity thief kept shaking him off balance, forcing him to wobble on the only leg supporting his body.

The pointed tip continued scraping down Dan's chest, almost as if the impostor was carving a message into his flesh. His fingers let go of Dan's neck and he took a step back, eyes admiring the fresh wounds that covered his skin. "My penmanship is a bit sloppy," was his only comment. A serpentine smile spread across his lips, and the impostor put a hand on Dan's shoulder. "See you later this evening." And with that, he disappeared into the darkness.

He was almost afraid to look, but Dan forced his eyes to inspect his heaving chest. It made him want to vomit, there was so much red seeping down his body. In bloody, jagged letters the word _J E R K_ had been painfully carved into his flesh.


End file.
